


the best that you can find

by queerofcups



Series: fic advent 2017 [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Marathon Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: The semi-infamous fourth time stands out. He’s still a little foggy on the details, he mostly remembers the coolness of the breakfast bar against his skin once he’d flopped down onto it and the feeling of Phil, in him and around him, warm and ebullient.





	the best that you can find

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "The semi-infamous fourth time stands out as the one and only time Dan’s come just from being fucked." From your fic. 
> 
> The fic in question being a little of your love.  
> I absolutely had to control + f that phrase because I couldn't tell you what I've said in any particular fic.  
> Title is from LCD Soundsystem's Dance Yrself Clean.  
> Unbetaed!

“You’re gonna kill me,” Dan says, as Phil presses him again the breakfast bar. “I’m too young and too pretty to die.”

“Then don’t,” Phil says, holding Dan’s hips and massaging a little bit. Against all odds, Dan feels the beginnings of arousal, the way his nerves seem to light up under Phil’s hands. He’s come three times already. He shouldn’t, technically speaking, be able to get it up anymore. Phil had been pulling orgasms out of him since ten this morning. His whole body feels oversensitive and the last time he’d come his dick had hurt with the effort.

But it's been an hour and a half since then and Phil’s slipping a hand into Dan’s underwear to gently cup his soft cock and Dan hates how he’s already starting to chub up.

“Aren’t you tired?” Dan asks. He tries not to whine too obviously when he backs up a little and feels the shape of Phil’s cock pressed against his ass. He’s come three times. Phil hasn’t come at all.

“Nope,” Phil says, popping the p. “Turned on. Open the drawer?”

Dan obliges, opening the drawer he knows Phil is talking about. He’d been the one to suggest they just keep a tube of lube in the kitchen. Phil had flushed and mumbled something about his mother stumbling across it and Dan had ignored him. Now, Dan’s not certain if he should thank his past self or curse at him for making things easier for Phil.

Phil gently squeezes his cock and Dan lets himself collapse onto the breakfast bar, shoving his ass against Phil’s crotch.

“Do what you want,” Dan says into his crossed arms. “Just let me rest.”

“Whatever I want?” Phil asks, using his free hand to tug Dan’s pajama pants down to his knees. Dan’s eyes are closed, but he doesn’t need them to know Phil is grinning a self-satisfied grin. It's written all over his voice.

“As long as it doesn’t involve me moving from this spot,” Dan confirms.

He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised when he’s still there, twenty minutes later, nearly out of his mind with sensation. If he was a little less out of it, he’d feel bad for Phil’s neighbors and the way they can definitely hear him whining and begging Phil not to stop, but right now he really doesn’t care. Phil’s clever tongue is darting around the fingers pressing in and out of Dan, dragging a gasp and whine out of Dan every time he moves them.

Whatever certainty Dan had about not coming again is obliterated, along with his sense of shame and decorum. Phil keeps changing tempo, speeding up and pressing long, deliberate strokes into Dan until he’s close, so close and then stopping.

“I hate you,” Dan moans, running a hand through his hair. “I hate you so much, let me come.”

He’s wet, cockhead dripping precum and slick from lube and spit all the way down to his thighs. He wants to come, but Phil’s pushed him past the point of feeling good, to the point where the need to come feels like an itch, like a burning between his hips, all the way to the bottom of his sacrum.

“No,” Phil says pleasantly, standing up and sliding two fingers into the tight, clenching ring of muscles of Dan’s ass. Dan squirms and only jumps a little when Phil pulls his fingers out and replaces it with the blunt, wide pressure of the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Dan says likes it's being punched out of him, inhaling and breathing through the stretch of Phil slowly pushing into him.

“That’s what I’m doing,” Phil says, sounding a little winded but still preternaturally pleasant. He still presses a firm hand against the small of Dan’s back to make him stop squirming.

Dan opens his mouth and presses his teeth into his forearm to muffle his moans as Phil starts up a long, focused rhythm that leaves him trying to crawl further onto the breakfast bar.

For a minute, that’s all there is, they’re stuck in a loop of the connection between their bodies, the slow, even strokes, the fullness driving Dan out of his mind.

“Who are you,” Dan gasps, shoving himself backward onto Phil. “What are you, what are you even doing to me?”

Phil laughs through Dan’s rambling, curls his fingers into claws to scratch Dan’s back a little.

And suddenly, it's here. If asked him five minutes before, Dan would tell you he wasn’t actually able to come without being touched but Phil is an insistent, impossible feeling, in him and around him and under his skin.

“Ah,” Dan breathes out, breath high in his chest and half a shout. “Ah, ah!”

The orgasm itself is a thin spill of mostly clear liquid, but the feeling is blinding. It's a full body contraction and release, a guttural groan and shiver that leaves Dan breathless and sensitive.

Phil comes, but it's a footnote to the feeling of his hand scrabbling at Dan’s skin, his breath hot on the back of Dan’s neck, and then the feeling of Phil’s weight, flopping onto Dan’s back. He’s giggling a little, and his chest is like a brand against Dan’s skin.

Dan groans as the air is pushed out of his lungs, flops his arms out against the cold bits of the breakfast bar and squirms until Phil pulls out and away. He’s a mess, wetness between his thigh, his voice scratchy and there’s likely a sweat pool in the shape of Dan on the breakfast bar.

Dan lays there, catching his breath until Phil pokes him.

“No,” he mumbles. “I’m dead. Leave me.”

Phil keeps poking him. “Come be dead in bed, it's comfier.”

Dan groans and lets Phil drag him off of the breakfast bar and guides them both, stumbling, to bed.

“We’re never doing that again,” Dan breathes when he’s laid in bed, probably ruining the bedsheets and not even caring what is leaking where. “Don’t touch me for like, eighteen years.”

Phil reaches over to poke him and Dan pretends not to notice while he drifts to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at queerofcups.tumblr.com and if you wanna buy me a coffee drink for giving you le smut, my kofi is here: ko-fi.com/queerofcups


End file.
